


Just Us Chickens

by Oparu



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: Kat has the best, and worst, friends. Afsaneh and Philippa demand she bring her tricorder over for last minute pregnancy tests (Kat's really not that kind of doctor, but no one listens to her).





	Just Us Chickens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ericine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ericine/gifts).



> Total fluff. Set in 2254ish. Kat’s just been promoted to Admiral, Philippa has the Shenzhou, Afsaneh has Starbase 19.
> 
> The lovely Ericine gave me the prompt, (accidental pregnancy and kissing), Kat does get kissed a few times, was kind enough to lend me the title, which seems to be something aunties joke about. 
> 
> As in it's just us chickens, don't be shy. 
> 
> Kat & Afsaneh & Philippa being awesome space friends. (and Gabriel gets mocked a little, but they love him)

“Stop working and bring your tricorder, you still have one of those, right?” 

Something rustles in the background and someone (Pippa) laughs gently. “Of course she still has one.”

Kat leans forward over her desk and presses her thumbs into her forehead, running them along her occipital bones will chase her headache a little, but it’ll rush back before she finishes these reports. 

And the second pile. 

“Have you been drinking, captains?” she lets the rank hang just for Afsaneh to jump on it. 

“Yes, ma’am. Still synthehol though, we’re waiting for you to break out the good stuff, Admiral.” 

“She’s in a mood today, Kat,” Pippa interrupts. “Best come down and save me.”

“Save you.”

“You’re vicious when you’re stressed.”

“Just because nothing stresses you.” 

She can’t think of a reason they need her tricorder. Maybe there’s some kind of alien drink they need to scan or something. She knows better than to ask. They’re a wonderful menace together, especially now that they’re both divorced and relaxing into their ranks and careers. The sarcasm usually flies faster than the drinks, but Gabriel usually backs her up when he’s in the same sector. 

Now he’s out on the fringes, protecting them all from Romulans and space dust while exploring. No one likes commanding on the edge of known space, and he took it, fast-tracking him to his own command, and after what happened on Tarsis IV he’s been staying away from planetary assignments as much as he can. 

_ “Might as well die in space,” _ he’d joked to her before kissing her goodbye. It might be months before she sees him again, if they can make their assignments overlap at all.

As the newest vice admiral in the fleet, her schedule is the worst of anyone’s. She’s constantly travelling, switching sectors and time zones, sleeping when she can. It’s a brutal sort of breaking in, and her dear friends can’t stop ribbing her for the promotion. 

_ “It’s ‘cause they love you, and they hate admirals, Kat,’ Gabe reminded her, his chin resting on her thigh. “You’ve thrown us all for a loop, taking this promotion. How can we mock the brass without mocking you?”  _

_ “You’ve never held back before.”  _

_ “Nor will we start now.” _

Picking her medkit off the shelf, she leaves her guest quarters and starts towards Afsaneh’s rooms. At least they didn’t ask for more alcohol, or any of her good whisky. Small favors.

She barely touches the door chime before Pippa’s there to pull her in. 

“Come on, we need you.” Philippa Georgiou, heroic captain of the  _ Shenzhou _ , decorated officer and her friend, presses a shot glass of some synthehol concoction into her hand. "Thank you for coming." 

"And prying yourself away from your work." Afsaneh lifts her shot with a grin. "You were never this boring at the Academy."

"She had distractions she liked at the Academy."

"Well, her favorite distraction is currently out of comm range and she hasn't seen him in weeks." 

"Then she needs a real drink," Afsaneh takes Kat's synthehol and downs it before handing her whiskey. "We're contemplating our poor decisions."

"You had fun."

"Fun, is not the problem." Afsane finishes another shot, glaring at Philippa. "The type of fun you talked me into is the problem. Your ex-husband is my problem."

"I'm sure it's fine."

Pointing at her, Afsaneh shakes her head. "If that tricorder says--"

Between the two of them arguing without pause, the scent of whisky and the pounding behind her eyes, Kat has no idea what's going on or why she's here or how Nikos could possibly be involved. 

"You're fine." Philippa, always slightly more sensible, even when she's been drinking, pats Kat's hand. "Please scan us both and tell Afsaneh she's not pregnant."

She opens her lips and shuts them, lifting the tricorder while she lifts her whisky. Maybe this will make sense if she just has a drink and starts to catch up. 

"Why am I scanning both of you?" She shouldn't ask.

"Nikos forgot his inhibitor shot. He's always been absent minded, which is why I'm always so careful with mine and Afsaneh-"

"I fucking forgot, all right?" She jams her hands onto her hips. "Scan me." 

"Scan us both, just in case."

As always, she has to protest. "You know I'm not that--"

"Don't make me make it an order," Afsaneh teases, shutting her eyes as if it's going to hurt. 

Kat shakes her head, scanning them both, and it's over in a moment. "Neither of you are pregnant, see?" She holds up the tricorder so they can read the display. "No elevated HCBG, no sign of implantation. You're fine."

"Oh thank the stars, I don't have to kill your ex-husband."

Philippa smiles, warm and teasing. "Good, he's not all bad."

"He was good, that was the problem." Afsaneh sighs, shivering in relief. "Now is not the time for that, anyway."

Kat stares at the shot glass, spending a spare moment daydreaming about Afsaneh and another child, now in her career. Not impossible, Starfleet's been very supportive of anyone who wants a family and their work, but the joke is always that it's a junior officer's game. No one brings their children to command meetings. 

"Wait, scan yourself too," Afsaneh teases, taking the tricorder from Kat's hands. "Join us in celebrating that we're not pregnant."

"I wasn't really worried."

"You never worry, it's why I hate you."

Afsaneh drinks and winces a little before handing the tricorder to Philippa. "You used to be a medic."

"It's a pregnancy scan, it's not difficult."

"You have it now." Afsaneh starts chopping up the little yellow fruit on the cutting board. "I want to make cocktails." 

Philippa rolls her eyes, and meets Kat's with a smile. "This won't hurt a bit." She holds the tricorder well, and she smiles until it finishes beeping. Then, even Philippa's easy smile falters.

"What?"

"Kat--"

Philippa turns the tricorder to her. "Maybe you should sit down."

Afsaneh shakes a knife in her direction. "Pippa, that's not funny." 

Philippa guides her hands around the tricorder, turning it so she could see.  **Pregnant** screams up at her like a red alert klaxxon. Elevated estrogen and progesterone, increased blood volume, HCBG readings consistent with the fourth week past conception, and a moth ago--

Gabriel was on Earth, they went to a walk, that old barbeque place he loves down by the water. It wasn't the first time she's been in his bed, but it was the first time on that ship. Breaking it in, introducing her to the other lady in his life, he had all the silly jokes when they beamed up to the  _ Buran _ . 

And now he's almost in the Beta Quadrant, exploring. Light years from here. 

Philippa takes the tricorder, finishes reading it and sets it down. "You're all right."

Which means physically. Physically, she's perfectly healthy, just pregnant. Afsaneh sets down the knife, wipes her hands, and grabs the tricorder, her mouth widening as she looks from it to Kat, over and over. 

"Well, fuck, Katrina, sit." She touches her shoulder, as firm as if Kat was one of her children. 

She's not fully aware of where the chairs come from but she sits, and they both crouch down to meet her eyes. 

"Should we hit Gabriel the next time we see him?"

It's not really his fault. She gets behind on her physicals just as she does everything else. She's always been healthy, there's no rush. It's not like she's an idiot back in the Academy again. She's an Admiral. She can--

"It's not his fault."

"Bullshit, Kat, you know he forgot for months, you probably just went a little late."

"I rescheduled for this week."

"Because you're fine."

"My head hurts."

"And your breasts are heavy, maybe even sore, and you feel like it's way too early every time the computer tries to wake you."

Philippa takes her hands, holding them close in hers. "It's all right. It could have been either of us, you're not alone."

"I still might hit him." Afsaneh backhands her cheek gently, shocking Kat back into the moment and the messy kitchen in Afsaneh's quarters. "That's for forgetting. Now you can't beat yourself up, I've already done it." 

Philippa smiles at her, flicking her eyes to the ceiling before she looks back at Kat. "Whatever you need to do, however much time you need, if you need us to come to classes--"

"They're not very helpful." 

"They are, actually helpful, they were. You learned things."

"You learned things and repeated them to me." Afsaneh starts dropping fruit into the food processing unit. "You're still going to drink something, it's just not going to have any alcohol in it." Feeding people helps her calm. "You should take Pippa, she's a great partner."

Philippa laughs, then kisses her forehead. "Anything you need, Kat, both of us will help."

"I swore like an Andorian marine the last time I went to a birth."

"It's different when it's not yours."

Birth is the logical end to this journey, the beginning of the more terrifying next part. She was never going to have children. There was no time. Maybe if Gabriel--

She probably can't even raise him on long distance communications if the Buran is on the fringes. He loves the long missions, out in the stars on his own. 

Afsaneh sets something fruity in front of her. "Drink this, I'm going to go track down the  _ Buran _ ."

Philippa squeezes her hands once more than touches her cheek. "It's okay if you want this to end tonight. I can get the hypo from sickbay, you can stay here. We'll stay." 

"No."

"And you don't have to decide now, Afsaneh just needs to do things, like feed you and find Gabriel."

"I know."

Philippa, on the other hand, has no problem, crouching next to her and rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb. She brushes Kat's hair off her forehead and smiles again. "Everything looked great, if you're worried. I'm not a real doctor--"

That joke's as old as their first few years in service. Philippa is an excellent triage medic, and Kat would happily work with her in a sickbay, if she needed to, but she's not a doctor, so the joke stands, even after decades.

"Funny."

"I try to be." Philippa pulls a chair over and sits beside her, holding her hand again. "Pregnancy isn't nearly as bad as Afsanseh says. She liked most of it." 

"Don't tell her things that aren't true, Pippa!" Afsaneh yells from the other room. "It's horrible."

"Her kids are great." Kat says, staring past Philippa to the windows. She forces herself to take a sip of the concoction in front of her. It's delicious, of course, sweet and bright somehow. "Kids are great, I--"

"It's all right. I never wanted any. Once I had ensigns, that was enough, and Cadets, they're like toddlers, always getting into everything." Philippa reaches for her own drink. "Little ones can be really charming."

"And they tug on your breasts at all hours of the night." Afsaneh holds a data PADD. "The  _ Buran _ is on a long range stellar survey, but she'll dock at Starbase seventy-three in three weeks for resupply. If you want to tell him in person. Or you just order them back here so I can hit him."

"Thank you." She's not really lightheaded, it's just the headache and it's late and this explains why no matter how much she sleeps, she could sleep more. There's no time for that, no time for anything. She should--

"Kat." This time Afsaneh leans down to kiss her cheek. "What would you tell one of your captains, if they wanted the child they didn't plan for? If they told you it was impossible that they have a child in their position?"

It's really not fair backing her into a corner like that. Of course she'd say all the things she 

"Afsaneh--"

"Katrina, dear, whatever you want, we will be here."

So she grabs them both, hugs them tight enough that for a second none of them breath properly. It'll be all right. Somehow. Starfleet only has room for one no-win scenario, and she passed that decades ago.  


End file.
